Merry Olde Robyn Hude, and Zombies
by Friendtrilobyte
Summary: The Tales of Robin Hood told as if a Zombie outbreak were happening. The presence of zombies, or "the Plagued" is subtle and primarily in the background, at least at first. Nevertheless, this will hopefully still mean their presence adds to the story.
1. Chapter 1: Robert Earl of Huntington

ROBYN HOOD AND ZOMBIES

Robert Earl of huntington heard footsteps coming down the long hallway. He had foreseen this coming. He stood and awaited it.

The Footsteps drew nearer, and in through the door came the haggard face and chubby cheeks of Sir Guy of Gisbourne.

"Greetings, Sir Guy."

"Save your formalities. I am hear on official Business."

"Oh, giving up your usual habits then?"

"No, You have not paid the new Tax on Lands of those loyal to his Majesty, the King, or, in his absence, his Brother, the prince."

"You are right, 'tis the usual business. That is a shame that it has not been paid. I shall have my new undersecretary flogged at once."

"This is no time for Jokes, Robert."

"No, that is just the thing, My lord. It is the perfect time for Jokes."

"You swore allegiance to his majesty, and now you must answer to that allegiance with your loyalty."

"You mean, with my purse? To make rich men richer, while the people suffer in the streets."

"The people?" sir Guy said in dismay. His tired face stared out in disbelief. "How could you talk about the people at a time like this?"

"Nay, I shall talk about them as I please, and as I always have pleased. As I do with you."

"You are quick with your tongue, Robert. But someday you will have to eat your words, and then we'll see who is so quick to laugh."

"We will see," mouthed Robert, as Sir Guy passed through the door.

It was midday as Robert and his lovely Bride to be sat in the Garden of Huntington Castle. It was the Birthright of Robert, and the resting ground of his father's grave, above which was set the insignia of Robert's family crest. The tomb's door lay open now, cracked upon the ground, and Ivy grew up around it.

Robert looked to his bride to be, Lady marian Fitzwalter. It was a lovely summer's day. Birds sang overhead, and sun glinted down from the mail of the guard upon the eastern wall. Clouds loomed in the sky, but did not mar the sun, and calmed with coolness. Vegetables grew in rows before them, but the kitchen helpers were not working at them, and their tools lay idle beside. Minstrels, instead, played at their backs a tune of summer, and Robert and Marian sat comfortably side by side. Young lovers they were, content to stare into each others eyes, and nothing more, and thus they did in the long hours of the day.

"Oh Robert," Marian said presently. "I wish I would never have to leave you, ever again."

"Well," said robert. "Why don't we make it that you shan't have to, ever again"

"Oh, Robin!" Marian's face was pale.

"What?" Robert said with a smile, "Why Not?"

"Now, at this Time? Robert, we talked of this." Marian was distraught, and placed her hand to her head. "Oh, Robert, we can't. Not now. I wish things could go on as they have. I wish I could spend countless days with you, laying idly as we have done, here in the safety of your court. But we can't. Not at a time like this."

"Why? What time, but the present? What better thing, but to married at just such a time as this? Why should times of war and peace, plague and health, dictate the actions of man? What, do we not eat when we are hungry? Sleep when we are tired? Is it not natural, then, to marry, when we are in love? Marian," said Robert, drawing close, once more. "Let us get married, marian."

"When, Robert?"

"As soon as it can be arranged. This coming week."

"Oh, Robert. I, I—It seems so strange, but I am happy. Yes, it makes sense somehow. Oh, it makes such sense, and yet—and yet, I am happy, and that is all."

"Of course you are, marian. Laugh, and the world Laughs with you. Frown, and no man can keep from treading on you. Why, I will bow down to no man except the king, and no force of nature, lest it be God himself. May the people say what they will, Marian, but you shall be my bride. Marry we shall, and run the very devil out from the path before us! Reckless we shall be, for life is short, and there is much I wish to see before death greets me in bed or battlefield. Why we shall marry, and be merry, and that is all. Yes, Marian. We shall marry. Oh, Marian, how I love you!"

"And I you, Robert," and they clasped hands, and brushed their cheeks with a delicate, but proper affection befitting their rank. And atop the castle wall, the guards launched crossbow bolts to the grounds below, the sounds of their release rising amid muffled cries of terror that lasted a few moments before silence resumed, and the guards resumed their stance with it, before changing shifts with the ringing of the castle bell.

Marian and Robert's wedding became the talk of the peasants working and cleaning behind the closed gates of the castle grounds. They knew of their engagement, a blissful tiding heard first a year ago midsummer's day, and not expected to come to full realization so soon, and so suddenly. They would speak of it while awaiting to receive their portion of the castle grain, or their meager serving of vegetable pottage each day. But the peasants were not the only one's to hear of it, nor the only ones to tell tales of it. One the very day of the wedding, an event set to happen in the chapel, choice noblemen and women alone presiding, Sir Guy of Gisbourne arrived through the castle gates. He had guards before, and behind, and with him was a man dressed in rich cloth, with a cruel and ugly stare.

They stormed into the chapel unannounced, as the festivities were underway. Robert looked up from Marian to the fat cheeks of Guy, and the ugly face of the man with him, and said merrily and with a laugh,

"Ah, Sir Guy, what a pleasure. I see you've come to congratulate me on this happy occasion?"

"No, Robert, I have not. Quite the reverse actually."

"I see you have brought his excellency, the sheriff of nottingham with you, eh? You are no longer a stranger to my abode, sheriff, though it be, as yet, so close to your recent appointment which I heard was, quite a pricy affair."

"Never you mind," said the scarred face of the sheriff. "My business is with the king, or, in his absence, the Prince John, his brother."

"And what business,may I ask, " said marian politely, "is so pressing as to bring you here on this, my wedding day?"

"What?" said Sir Guy, eyes glinting above the bags that hung beneath them, "Marriage? What nonsense!"

"Surely you'd not marry a wolfshead?" said the Sherrif calmly.

Marian went pale. She put her hands to her face, and shook her head in disbelief. Robin only laughed.

"Wolfshead?" He said "An outlaw, eh? Ha-ha-ha-ha! What a fine Joke. An outlaw, what a thing to be, and yet, I cannot disagree."

"You think this is a laughing matter," said Guy. "We have a warrant for your arrest, Robert, former earl of huntington, for failure to pay the special Land tax, and disloyalty to the King and his residing."

"Oh Robert!" said Marian.

"Oh, never fear, Marian, it is deserved after all. I am every last one of those things you just mentioned, Sir Guy. An outlaw you make me out as, and an outlaw I shall be! And, that being the case, it would not be proper to go passively, wouldn't you say?" he drew his sword.

"Guards!" called Guy, and he and the sheriff drew their swords as well. Guards entered, and lowered their pikes. Robert grabbed his shield from the chapel wall, blazoned with the double stag of Robert's ancestry, and made battle with the guards.

They thrust their pikes at him, and he warded them off with his shield, and brought the sword down on the helm of the closest. It clove his skull, and he fell. The others parried his attacks with their spearheads, and Robert warded their return strikes with his shield. When the chance opened up, he thrust the sword rapidly under their arms where their mail stopped, and they fell. The way out was now cleared, and Robert made his escape, as Guy and the Sheriff hacked off the heads of the two stabbed guards. Once done, they called to the watchman, who sounded the alarm.

The castle bell was ringing as Robert ran down the stairs. He rounded the last corner along the wall, and found a mass of men at the base. They captured him before he could think, and bound him with cords. Guy came and stared hard at Robert.

"Reckless coward! Running like a chicken. You cannot escape your fate so easily." He looked at Robert, then spit in his face in disgust. "As I said, you will one day have to eat your words."

And so Robert, earl of Huntington was reduced to the status of criminal on his own land, and was brought to the front gates of the castle. "You are nothing, your lands and your bride to be have been robbed you, and are now the property of Sir Guy. What have you to say for yourself."

Robert laughed. "I am an outlaw, aren't I? What more fitting way to confirm my ignoble status?"

"Do you think I would not Kill you?!" said the Sheriff.

"No, I don't think it would change anything."

"You are a scoundrel, Robert."

The Sheriff looked to the guards, and they took Robert up under his hands, and, under the watch of archers, the gates were opened. Robert's form was thrown out, and the gates shut tight behind him. Robert felt them, with a wild grin on his face, then looked to the fields before him.

They were barren of movement, friend or enemy. "But I might not have the same enemies as before, outlaw that I am. I shall have to seek out other Outlaws such as I," and he made towards the woods on the horizon (for Huntington Castle was very near sherwood forest, and Robin owned the timber rights to quite a portion, though the rest was the King's). And Robert said "What had been my wedding day, has become my birth, here in this new social order." And before the sun had set on this day, he had found the greenwood, and entered therein.

Thus was Robert, earl of huntington forced out into the wilds and wastes, through the fields, and into the greenwood.

And as Robert passed beneath the safety of the trees, he said to himself "They have taken my name, so I shall don a new one. Hereafter shall they know me as Robyn Hude. There's a name the people will repeat!" And none in those days would come to know a man quite like Robin Hood.


	2. Chapter 2: Little John of the Dead

CHAPTER 2

Little John (of the Dead)

In merry England, before the name of Robyn Hude was spoke by those who loved that rogue, tales there were of robbers in the greenwood. Survivors they were, living off the land, foresters, outlaws, and peasants who had nowhere else to go. And they declared themselves freemen, and let no warrant of arrest draw them out, and laughed at armored caravans who promised them safe return to prison.

Robin had heard tales of these men, and so, upon his exile from the castle, he went into the greenwood, so these men to find.

When robin found them, those who knew him for the earl of Huntington new of his plight, and his being kept from the loving hands of Maid Marian, as the people called her, and of his refusing to pay the Tax, and Robert said to them "You all have refused to pay these worthless taxes, and so have I also. No longer am I Robert, earl of Huntington, but Robert of the Hood. And you, who shall know me better, can call me Robin Hood." And it was that name, and that name only that he would use to take over leading this band of outlaws. And so it was that Robin Hood came to lead his band of Merry men, and keep court in the shade of the greenwood.

And robin said "They have thrust me from my birthright to the wild, and I have exchanged richly garb for the linden green of the forester, and yet I find I still keep court, and have a band of loyal men about me. But the joke is on them, for my walls are the thicker, and my court the larger, and my land the more wealthy, for I own more than a hundred horned beast on a hundred woody hills. Indeed, little has changed between there and here!" and he laughed at this Joke, and the men laughed, too, for they were in much need of a good joke.

Now one day as Robin and his men were lying Idly under the greenwood, Robin decided he had a taste for venison.

So he headed off into the greenwood.

"You are not going alone?" asked one of the men.

"Of course. One is quicker, alone."

"'Tis dangerous," said the man, Much the Miller's son, he was. "You could be killed, or worse!"

"No, no, Lord Robin Hood is the greatest shot in all of england!" said another man, and all the men agreed. And they spoke loudly, saying "The sheriff can put up a thousand warrants of arrest, and a thousand plagued surround him, and he will prevail. He can beat that old blackguard to a pulp! All cheers for merry robin!" They cheered for him.

"Indeed, name one man who can shoot better than I!"

And Much the miller's son said "None I know who can shoot as well as thou, Master Robin, but I do know one whose strength of arm makes his range outdo yours!"

"Indeed?" said Robin. "I should very much like to learn this man's name."

"He is a man from a village to the east, who roams the woods as well, leader of his own band. Some say he is taller than any man."

"I was going to go in search of deer, but I think I shall go in search of just this very man."

"Shall we go with you Robin, in case the worst should happen?"

"Nay, nay," said Robin, but they would not have it.

"Alas, good men." And he took up a horn of ivory that lay nearby. "Should I find myself in danger, I shall blow this horn. Follow the sound, and you shall find me, for better or for worse. Now, fare thee well," and he was off.

Robin wandered through the merry woods of Sherwood, unchanged as they were from year to year, and though he kept his longbow and sword ready at hand, he whistled as he went.

Presently Robin Hood came upon a brown and babbling brook, across which led a bridge so narrow, only one man could cross it at a time. And across the way stood a man, who was wide of birth, and strong of arm.

"Let me pass, stranger," said Robin.

"That I cannot do," said the man. He bore a quarter staff of wood, and rested his arms upon it above the babbling brown stream. "You couldst have the plague, how should I know otherwise? Those who tread these woods often do, because they have been banished. And those who have been banished have either played the wolfshead, or have the plague. Be ye the second, then you have it. Be ye the first, then you will no doubt have it soon."

"What care is it is of yours, if I had?" asked Robin, wily. "I do not ask to stay with you, what harm can I have, if I should merely pass by?"

"You would pass, yes, but should the sickness take full effect, then were I to chance meet you again, it would not be a harmless encounter."

"Well, said, but if I insist to pass, as yet, what wouldst thou do? Would you kill a man who may not have it?"

"I don't know," said the man. "I think, I should bind him. And if a day and half's passing does not reveal the answer, his life would be spared."

"A fine plan," said Robin. "But what if I were to say that I am a restless soul, and would not insist upon such treatment? What wouldst thou do then?"

"I," began the man, but paused. "I don't know. I would fight you."

"With swords? To the death?"

"No, with quarter-staff." He held his own up. "I would subdue you, and take you alive."

"And what if I should not be subdued?"

"I'd make thee!" said the man, and held the staff forward.

"So it is settled," said Robin. He drew his sword, and cut himself a length of wood from a sapling at hand, and trimmed it of leaf and branch, so that he had a staff, and he faced the tall man with staff in hand.

"So it begins," said the man.

The Man struck first, and Robin followed. It was a grand tussle, as each man fought not only the mighty blows of the staffs, but also for his own balance upon the narrow bridge. Robin was a fine warrior, well taught. He met the mighty-arm of the stranger with equal skill. But not, that is to say, with equal strength. The tall man was strong, and his blows were like a thunderclap. Robins staff threatened to splinter beneath the force. Robin took a chance at a blow upon the shoulder, but the man caught it in time, and forced robin's upwards. Robin spread his arms to keep his balance, and the man took the opportunity to strike Robin on the crown, and he fell to the brown rush below.

Robin pulled out his horn of ivory, and blew a long hard blast, as Little John lowered his staff to Robin's neck.

Almost instantly, it seemed, were they surrounded by men in linden green. The stranger was surprised.

"We kept close watch over you," said the foremost man, a forester. "In case you should be in danger." Men had already surrounded the tall stranger, but Robin spoke quickly.

"Leave him be, he is a good man, and a friend."

"What is this?" said the man. "Who are all of you? Leave me be, I am trying to find Robin Hood and his band of Merry men. They say he keeps court, here in the greenwood."

"Alas, friend," said Robin, standing again, and eying him from above. "You have found him."

"What! you are Robin?" asked the stranger.

"And so we meet. I would ask your name, though, stranger."

"I am John-little, or John-Jenkins, if you prefer."

"Hmm," said Robin, wily. "I think John-little is not a fitting name. No, indeed not. Instead, I shall call you 'Little John,' that sells the idea a lot better." He winked, and the men about laughed long and hard. John-little grinned a mighty grin, and let Robin help him to his feet.

And so was the friendship of Little John won, by Robin Hood and his merry men.

They brought Little John back to their camp beneath the spreading oak, and there was he made welcome. And there, in Robin's court, Robin spoke to him.

"We hear you have the strongest arm of any, Little John, and a fine archer, what's more."

"Indeed." Robin pointed to a tree, some 300 yards away, and said "Strike that tree, if you can."

Little John took up his longbow, strung it, and set the knock of an arrow to the string. He pulled back, till he was red in the face, and the string looked about to break, and then he let it fly. It struck the tree full on. When Robin sent a man to fetch it, he could not retrieve it from the bark of the wood, it had sunk too deep. "Let it remain as a reminder," said Robin with a laugh, "Not to make enemies of this man." And he struck Little John upon the back in kindly gesture. "Strength you have indeed, but what is your aim?" And Robin set up a branch of wood some yards distant, not as far, but nearly.

"A closer target, but let's see how you do." Little John drew back his bow as before, and let it fly. It brushed past the branch, missing it by less than a finger's length.

"A Fine shot, good fellow," said Robin.

"Indeed, a target such as that, I am surprised I did as well. I doubt any man could strike it."

Robin smiled, and pulled back his bow. He let it fly and it struck the wood, splintering it into halves.

The men cheered, and jeered at Little John kindheartedly. Little John turned to Robin and said "May men learn of your skill, Robin, that they may know not to make enemies of you, either."

Robin laughed and said "True. Only my enemies have never met a foe like me. They had better learn of me well enough soon, or else they shall, indeed, live to regret it."


	3. Chapter 3: Ye Knights, Ye Zombie Slayers

Ye Knights, Ye Zombie Slayers

The doors to Nottingham were broad and thick, iron studded, with bars on the inside. Though guards guarded it more frequently of late, if one was to approach it at a time when there was no one around, one could beat on it for hours and none would hear you.

It was a sunny day, bright and vibrant in the empty field before Nottingham. The field was hung with silence, as though the world were holding its breath. Then: a golden bugle cry, shrill in the still morning, and the doors burst open. Out rushed a dozen strong men on horseback. 'Twas the knights of sherwood, and at their lead, Sir Guy of Gisbourne. Their mail glittered in the morning light as their swords flailed through the air in eager anticipation.

They galloped forth across the downs, hooves stirring up clods in passing. A dozen plagued wandered beyond the hill, blood spewing from their mouths, and their tattered clothes clinging to their gnarled bodies. The bugle cry was sounded, and the knights charged. The Plagued turned, their faces bearing a devilish grin, gladly approaching what would prove to be certain death.

The sound of a crossbow bolt, and one fell; another, and the next nearest was lamed. The knight galloped in, and with a strong blow, brought his sword down upon the creatures neck, and the head rolled beneath the horse and was crushed by it's gallop.

Another was in view. The knight galloped towards it, and struck the beast upon the neck. It took a turn or two of the sword, but the head fell from this one's shoulders, as well, and the horse moved onward.

Swords were coming down all across the field. A dozen plagued fell with each advancing stroke. Villeins, priests, soldiers, vagabonds, troubadours. Each was met, and each fell.

They reached the end of the succession, and a bugle call was sounded. They halted, raised their sword in a battle cry, and sir guy began to speak. But ere he uttered a word, his voice was interrupted by a call of alarm among the knights. A Plagued had emerged from the trees, and was almost upon one of their horses. The knight tried to force his mount backwards, but the beast was panicked. He fumbled for his weapon, his face panic stricken, as the bloodied fingers of the Plagued grasped his armoured leg.

Sir guy's sword came down on the savage creature's neck, and it fell to the ground. It lay, coated in blood, as though it had drowned in it. Sir guy grabbed a spear from a nearby fellow, and thrust the pike into the severed head. Holding it up he called his men to hear his words.

"The Knights of Nottinghamshire are victorious once more! Down with these bally plagued! Honor to the man who slays them in their largest numbers! Honor to the knights of Nottingham!"

There was a cheer amongst the men at this, and they clattered their armour in approval. Then, with a bugle call, they galloped back to the castle.

The peasantry awaited as the guards announced the return of Sir Guy. The doors were opened, and the horsemen entered. Sir Guy descended, and thrust the long pike into the soil of the courtyard.

He bid the people see the spoils of their venture: the bleeding head upon the pike.

"One less to plague our fields. One less to slay our children. And cast down at my hand!" called Sir Guy to the crowd. "And a dozen more as well, by mine and others hands. Rejoice, oh people of Nottingham!"

"Never since the days of King arthur have there been such knights!" all the people said. "Long they fight against the plagued! Long Live the Knights of Nottingham!" and the people rejoiced to see the success of this venture. And the people gathered to the stricken head, and seeing its foreignness, were relieved at its lifeless state. And they praised the knights all the more, and many gathered there throughout the day to admire the prize.

That night there was great merriment in nottingham castle. The nobility drank deep their wine, and ate of the rarest treats. And at their head, in a chair almost as prominent as the sheriff himself, sat sir guy. The severed head sat on the corner of the table, so that its blood dripped to where his trencher sat. But Sir Guy did not mind. The knights joked of it, even, and bid him eat a portion of the head, a thing he refused to do, though it was agreed a fine jest.

The head was passed amongst the lords and ladies, who were given a space of cloth to cover their mouths, and to wipe the blood from their hands. The deeds of sir Guy were praised, as well as those of the other knights, and the head made many rounds before the night was done. And their merriment lasted long into the evening.

The lords and ladies enjoyed the entertainment of a dog-fight: a mastiff was fighting with a man deemed "soon to be plagued" by the priest, who had been seen spewing forth blood amid his labours, but who had not caught the madness just yet. A thing agreed fortunate by most, to be sure.


End file.
